


Lending a hand (or two)

by Alexgalaxies



Category: The Good Doctor (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Light Angst, Saint Claire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:13:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22581571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexgalaxies/pseuds/Alexgalaxies
Summary: Morgan's arthritis spoils her mood after a successful surgery. Luckily Claire is here to lend a hand to the woman in need.
Relationships: Claire Browne/Morgan Reznick
Comments: 1
Kudos: 57





	Lending a hand (or two)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written by @neverwonatscrabble on Tumblr, written and added upon by me  
> It could be read stand-alone or with Ice Ice, Baby as the first part.
> 
> Written PRE-Morgan's hands fumbling in the locker room when Lim catches her!

The evening’s shift had been horrendous and Morgan had excelled. Another lead surgery had thrown up two completely unpredictable complications and all the scrub nurses had agreed, she’d dealt with it expertly. Dr. Park had been squirming with jealousy, she could tell, beneath the ‘ever so above it all’ persona he liked to put on. Not that she’d stuck around to gloat. Morgan’s hands ached. The bragging had been a good consolation, but alone in the locker room, all emotional distractions from the pain were gone. She’d taken naproxen immediately after the surgery but its effects had been minimal. The way her joints flared with inflammation while opening her locker made her heart sink in her chest. Surgery barely felt sustainable, it was the corrosive burning under her skin that made it so difficult. 

Changing her clothes was a slow process. Morgan knew how to take risks but she wasn’t dense, she dressed with caution, very slowly. Even with the pain, she was nearly finished by the time Claire slipped into the dim room. 

“Hi.” Claire wasn’t sure why she had said it, it felt more polite to let it be known someone else was entering the room than entering silently.

Morgan felt obligated to respond, even though she really didn’t want to. “Hey.” She managed to get out, her hands shaking as she attempted to continue her task.

Claire didn’t say anything back. They continued in silence. Morgan had noticed she tended to say things Claire didn’t like. Obviously, usually, what she said was actually both useful and correct, but never what Claire seemed to want. And Claire didn’t say much at all recently, understandably so.

The time of evening and the location of the locker room made it more silent than other places in the hospital. With the absence of conversation, every sound was more defined, they could hear every movement of fabric, every breath. It would’ve been awkward, had the two not spent so much time in silence together already.

Initially, Morgan had watched Claire hoping for a sign that she’d instigate some pointless conversation. No such luck, of course. Claire was getting changed into her scrubs ready for the night shift as if she were alone. Morgan began with the buttons of her shirt, her jaw clenched. She turned to see if Claire had noticed her struggling then continued the slow process of buttoning up her shirt. 

It was frustratingly slow and the blonde was losing patience. For the third time in a row, a button slipped from her fingers instead of through its slit, Morgan had to hold her breath to prevent herself from clenching her fists. Any feelings of victory were long forgotten. She sighed loudly, it was an exhale loud enough that she heard it echo a little through the room. It fell quiet again, and Morgan realized that Claire hadn’t been moving. She turned around and saw Claire looking at her with concern, she met her eyes. 

The vulnerability of being watched made something surface itself within Morgan. With a defensive tone, “What?” She said already frustrated and not wanting Claire adding to it. Morgan wasn’t keen on people taking pity on her.

“Nothing.” The brunette turned back around noting the irritation in Morgan’s voice. Claire turned her attention back to her clothes spread on the bench, folding them, and putting them into her locker. Morgan made it to the halfway point on her shirt before noticing the silence in the room. Claire wasn’t moving. This was the most infuriating part. Claire wasn’t ready to come out of her world of grief yet and into the present, Morgan understood that but that hasn't stopped Claire from still being nosy. Morgan snapped, “Can you stop just watching, Claire.” 

She didn’t break eye contact and tried to read the other woman’s expression. It remained semi-absent but slightly tinged with shame. “Sorry. I wasn’t-” She paused. “I-” She held her tongue. “Sorry,” Claire muttered and turned on her toes. 

Morgan frowned back at her hands, sighed, and went back to work on her buttons. Her blood pounded in her ears. Whatever she felt, she wasn’t happy about it. The pressure had built up in her head so much that she didn’t hear Claire pause, didn’t hear her turn back towards Morgan.

And then Claire’s hands were so carefully on her own, cupping them so softly she could barely say there was contact between them. Morgan’s hands, covered by Claire’s, were pushed so gently away from her shirt. Morgan froze, unable to take her eyes away from watching Claire’s movements. Almost like if she did, she might convince herself this wasn’t real. So she focused on the other woman’s fingers, and not her equally surprised face. She was familiar with her colleague’s hands, she usually caught her self staring at them. She recognized the small scar on the left hand. Everything felt unbearably solid. 

Claire was shocked that Morgan hadn’t flinched away from her touch. Then Claire cleared her throat and let go of Morgan. 

Only at that point, when dropping her hands to her side, did she realize how cool Claire’s had been. But she was quickly distracted. Claire’s small hands reached forward and took hold of her shirt. She did up the remaining few buttons with smooth, unrushed, movements. Both women stared at the process held their breaths due to their proximity. When all the buttons were done but for the top one, Claire paused, still holding the fabric between her fingers. Then letting go she stepped back and the women faced one another.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Morgan whispered feeling small. 

“Overstepping, getting over-involved in the guise of helping. Aren’t these the things you’re trying to push me back in to?” Claire replied, and got no answer, “Whatever,” She walked away.

A new sense of urgency found its way into the blonde. “Wait,” Morgan said, still unmoving, “I didn’t ask but- thanks.”

“Yeah,” Claire opened the door and turned back, “Thanks for trying for me too.” She left but conjured up a quick half-smile before stepping out. A gentle half-smile, tentative as her hands had been. Experimental. Morgan squinted at the door. ‘Trying’. She hadn’t been trying to do anything. She didn’t even think Claire’s usual insistence to overlook boundaries made any sense, to her or her patients. Morgan replayed Claire’s smile. Maybe she wouldn’t mind a few more of those though. Just to make her working life easier. 

It wasn’t until later that night, sat in her kitchen, that Morgan realized she’d need to swear her co-worker to secrecy. It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning, when she bolted awake in a cold sweat, that she realized she might have bigger problems.

**Author's Note:**

> not beta'd, is subject to future changes


End file.
